Druxy
by Therefore I Am A Pipsqueak
Summary: When Hermione had gone to stay with her uncle for the month she'd expected forced shopping trips, late night movies and hot coco. But now she's been swept up into a game with seemingly no rules, where nothing is what it seems and nobody is who they say. Except her uncle, he's the only one she can trust…right?
1. Snowy meetings, misunderstood greetings

Update: Changed the Summary because it didn't really give anyone an idea of what the story was actually about.

_**Chapter one**_

She hated snow. Hated, hated, hated it! She hated the way it melted and somehow managed to always worm its way into her socks, making them damp and squashy no matter how many charms she did to protect them. She hated the way the freezing wind burnt her throat every time she breathed in and she hated the way it made her cheeks flush and caused her nose to feel like an icicle. But if there was one thing, _one thing_ she hated even more than snow, it was having to walk five kilometres uphill in a snowstorm because her uncle had forgotten to pick her up. She couldn't even hail a cab because the one time her father somehow manages to convince her to let her mother borrow her bag, is the one time some moron decides to steal her purse! This was London damnit! There wasn't supposed to be crime... not in broad daylight anyway. She was filing multiple complaints to her mother as soon as the month was over. One for her good for nothing forgetful uncle, two for stealing her bag, three for the purse that was stolen and four for... oh yeah, the damn snow.

She didn't care if her mother had no control over the weather (she had more control now that she thought about it) she was still going to complain. She could feel the snow dripping down the back of her coat, the sloshy goo that caused goose bumps and shivers to break out in irregular patterns down her spine. Hermione scowled and tucked her chin deeper into her coat collar, silently sending a prayer of thanks to her younger self for putting a feather light charm on the giant trunk. If she'd had to have carried the proper weight through all of this snow she would have lost it. As it was she was already going to make Voldemort look like a kitten when she got hold of her uncle, he should be thankful she wasn't getting his mother involved.

Hermione smiled grimly at that thought, briefly contemplating the idea before dismissing it with a shake of her head. No, not even her uncle deserved the fate of dealing with Grandmamma Josie. As it was the old lady was already on his back about finding a 'nice' girl and 'settling down' so she could have some more grandkids. Hermione laughed silently as she remembered her uncles face at the last family gathering (the last one that he had attended anyway) where both her mother and father had utterly failed at explaining- in quite broad terms- that her uncle 'played for the other team'. His face had been a mixture of utter disbelief, annoyance and exasperation that had quickly turned to resignation when his stepmother had asked in an overly chirpy "What do his hobbies have to do with his love life?" Her and Neal had nearly died choking on their tea at that.

Hermione glanced up and trailed her eyes over the street ahead of her with a slight frown, eyes briefly flicking down to the map in her hand. Taking in the hastily scrawled address Hermione frowned, straining her eyes to try and make out if that damn looped thing was an o or a. God her mother's hand writing was terrible.

Hmmm... An e? Yeah that was an e.

Stuffing the map back into her pocket Hermione set off again, childishly sticking her tongue out to catch a snowflake as it drifted down. If she was reading the map right her uncles work place, some hospital or other, should be just around the corner and a sharp left. If she wasn't reading the map right then she was in trouble and her mother was getting another complaint. Even if she was right there was always the chance of him not being in and if that was the case then she was going to let herself into his office, let her nice wet and soggy clothes drip everywhere before she'd call him and berate his ass for forgetting her.

The road ahead of her narrowed slightly, the sidewalk and tar road seeming to become one as she cut through the side of two houses, sneakers squeaking with each step. The overlapping edges of the houses stopped the worst of the snow from falling here, small piles of discarded cans and empty wrapper taking the place of the white powder banks. As she walked Hermione carefully traced a line of graffiti with her eyes, noting the swirl of colour with some amusement. She couldn't tell what the design was supposed to be, if it was even meant to be anything at all besides a mess of lines and colours. She had to admit grudgingly though, that it was a bit pretty. In an abstract type of way.

Hermione yelped as a figure bolted past her, ramming into her shoulder and sending her spinning. She slammed into the wall with a hiss, just barely stopping her nose from breaking against the bricks. If someone was trying to steal from her again she was going to kick something. Very hard and in a very sensitive place. With steel tipped boots. Whirling around with a yell Hermione freezes as another voice calls, tinged slightly with anger but mostly exasperation "Sherlock! Goddamnit, watch where you're going!"

She spun on her heel when a man jogged up to her, an old grey sweater failing miserably at fending off the snow. Hermione eyed him warily. He didn't look like a robber. No, because robbers always look like robbers, her mind snapped back snidely. Maybe this one's a murderer, sweater hiding a pointy little knife that will carve pointy little holes into your soft, soft skin. Right through like Swiss cheese! Imagine that! A Swiss cheese ghost filled with regret at how foolish her human self was at not running from the sweater murderer. Oh what a way to go, the great Hermione Granger, taken out by a moron and a wall- Her thoughts cut off abruptly as the man gave her a tentative smile, smile kind, but eyes starting to sparkle with the 'what the hell is she doing look' that she often got gifted by her grandmother. It took her a bit to realise that he'd asked her a question and shaking her head slightly Hermione grimaced, pulling a piece of wall paint out of her hair.

"Yeah. Yeah I'm fine. S'all good" she said cheerfully, crouching to pick her case up from where it had fallen during her small flight. She mentally groaned, throwing as a dirty glare at the popped open trunk. Well fat load of good that lock did, bloody opening at the smallest bump. The man glances down the alley before glancing back at her, seeming to waver before he leans down to help her with her books. While at least the concealment charm she'd placed on them had activated and worked better than the stupid lock. She was a terrible liar and having to try and explain why one of the books seemed to follow the poor guys every move would have just gone swimming. And would have most likely ended with her knocking him out. Or running. Or both. Her options were rather limited at that moment.

It only took them a matter of moments to completely gather her things, Hermione closing the trunk with a sharp click before accepting the map-somehow miraculously saved from the melted snow- from him.

"Once again I'm really sorry about that, when Sherlock gets an idea he tends to not look where he's going. And as such" he gestured at her with a slight smile, "you would be surprised how often things like this happen." Hermione laughed lightly, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear for lack of anything else to do.

"I can imagine. Ideas can be rather worrisome." The man smiled before he glanced back down the alley and shook his head.

"Well I'd better let you go. You look as if you're on your own mission. Oh, I'm John by the way. John Watson." He held out his hand a little awkwardly, smiling as she shook it.

"Hermione. Nice to meet you." She replied, wincing slightly at his grip. Strong and firm. The grip of a soldier according to her long dead, army crazed grandfather. Hermione grinned at the thought. John smiled back and pulled away, walked two steps forward , turned back to look at her, eyebrows furrowed, opened his mouth to say something and-

CRASH!

The noise echoed through the alley, followed by the sound of tires screeching on tar and the draining of blood in one John Watson's face.

"Sherlock!" He yelled before he once again took off down the alley, completely forgetting Hermione as he took off after his wayward friend. She was half tempted to turn back just to see what mischief this 'Sherlock' had caused but changed her mind rather quickly when a small patch of snow slid off one of the overlapping roofs and landed with a plop on her head. Hermione shrieked as she felt it slip off her hat and drip its way down her head, chilling her skull and making her miserable.

That's it. She was going to kill him.

O….O

Well wasn't this great. Any feelings of forgiveness and rational thinking Hermione may have felt for her uncle went flying out the door, crash landed and promptly burnt, as soon as she stepped into his office.

During the wait in the lobby, where she'd had time to think and dethaw- and be harassed by the receptionist, Barbara, because she was convinced Hermione was there for a boob job when she'd accidentally asked for the Plastic surgeon instead of her uncle- She'd come to the conclusion that her uncle had obviously had something really important to do, something that would have caused him to be fired if he'd left to pick her up. Something that would be a logical explanation for why one would forget one in a snowstorm. Evidently, that was not the case.

She stood behind him, jaw dropped and eyes angrily trekking the movement of the mouse as he moved one of the chess pieces around. Two wires trailed from his ears, the starting chords of 'Fur Elise' playing softly in the silence, punctuated occasionally by the clicking of the mouse. He was swinging lazily in his chair, foot tapping along to the music from its place on the bottom rung. He took a sip from a smiley face mug- the yellow faced thing seeming to have been painted on by six year old for the way it was so distorted- and stayed oblivious to her rapidly angering presences.

Would the Ministry of Magic mind, really, really mind, if she just took out her wand and performed one tiny, tiny, tiny little jinx on her uncle, that much? Surely they wouldn't punish her that badly for it. After all, she's quite sure many of them can understand the frustration of being left in a snowstorm in favour of playing chess. Cause really, these kind of things happened all the time. The game was just so exhilarating, the symphony of clicks and cheesy flashing letters and music making ones blood pump with achievement and happiness. 'I beat that game', they could say, 'I won that achievement'. So, who cares really if their niece became a popsicle, as long as they beat this or that high score. She'd definitely understand! It was chess! Hermione stared flatly at her uncle's head, silently boring holes into it. The Ministry wouldn't mind that much…surely?

She cleared her throat. Then cleared it again, then began to clear it for a third time when she was suddenly remind of a certain giant pink toad and stopped, wincing in horror. He still hadn't noticed her. Hermione gently put her trunk down inside the room, closing the door carefully behind her while she kept her eyes glued to the back of his head. Still focusing on the stupid chess game. She childishly stuck her tongue out at his back, delighting in the rush of joy that accompanied the movement.

Now Hermione wasn't normally one for giving into childish urges. She was a mature, independent young lady who had more than enough self-control when it came to dealing with the occasional urge that would flare up from time to time. She was a 'femme d'âge mûr' as her mother said (except it often came out as Fe-me Daa-ga M-eer, instead. It was a sore point for her mother that she was absolutely terrible at French). But God, the temptation to pull faces at her uncles back was just too damn tempting…

Hermione glanced around to make sure no one was peeking in through the small office windows before she faced her uncle again, putting her thumb against her nose and wiggling her other four fingers. 'Ha ha' she thought with a slight giggle, pushing her nose up with her forefinger and once again sticking her tongue out. This was actually rather fun. She moved to pull the skin under her eyes down, opening and shutting her mouth while she blew raspberries. Na na na na na-

"Hermione what on Earth are you doing?" Jim asked suddenly, lazily pulling his eyes away from the screen to glance over his shoulder and grin when his niece released a shriek and jumped as if she'd been burnt. Hermione spluttered and stared at him in shock, her cheeks flushing a dark red as her uncle began to laugh.

"You knew I was here!" She accused angrily, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him when he continued laughing. His head was resting on his arms on the desk, his shoulders shaking with mirth. Hermione felt her lips twitch but she quickly schooled her expression, pasting a mask of faux irritation over her features as she began tapping her foot impatiently.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"

"That I have quite the creative niece who knows how to pull some absolutely horrid faces. Didn't your mother ever tell you that if the wind changes you'll be stuck like that?" Jim teased lightly, his Irish accent heavy with amusement as his niece stared at him flatly. That wasn't exactly what she'd been going for…

Jim rolled his eyes when Hermione continued staring at him, his faces shining in honest amusement as his lips quirked up into a little grin.

"Alright, alright. I admit, I may have seen you come in" Jim admitted, raising his hands in the air innocently as he indicated the small mirror above his desk with a nod of his head. Hermione glared at the innocent looking mirror, silently willing the little thing to burst into flames. Good thing she'd decided against cursing him. The Ministry would undoubtedly have come screeching after her head if she had.

"You could have said something" Hermione muttered, grasping at straws as she turned and grabbed her trunk. Her cheeks had faded to a dull pink now, but she could still feel the embarrassment burning in her stomach, dulling her anger and making her want to squirm.

"Yes well, neither did you" He pointed out as he pulled his headphones out and rolled them up, spinning his chair around to face her with open arms, beaming.

"Now is your favourite uncle going to get a hug or not?"

"Oh no. No. uh uh. You are not getting off that easily' Hermione retorted, crossing her arms again and glaring murderously as her anger suddenly returned full force. Her uncle was a brilliant actor, she'd give him that. The confused, narrowed eyed look and slightly droopy shoulders would have, in any other circumstance, completely convinced her that her uncle had no clue what he'd done wrong. The key words there being in any other circumstance. She knew for a fact that he'd known she'd be coming, so unless he had a very valid reason for having forgotten her, she was not letting him off Scotch free.

Jim stared at her with his arms open for a few more minutes, the angry looking seventeen year old causing him to drop them with a sigh. Well, someone was decidedly being extremely childish today.

As if reading his thoughts Hermione's scowl deepened, her lips pulling down into a sharp line and her eyebrows furrowing. Silence stretched out between them, the only audience to their awkward show.

"Well?" Hermione asked after a few more moments, her hands falling to her sides to fidget with a strand of loose thread on her jacket sleeve. Jim shrugged and grabbed a pencil from the desk, jamming it in a sharpener and raising his eyebrow at her.

"Well what? I said I was sorry for scaring you. I don't know what more you want" He retorted, pulling the pencil out and blowing the dust in Hermione's direction. Hermione gaped at him.

"Scaring me? This isn't about- seriously? I wasn't talking about that! I was talking about you forgetting me in a snowstorm" Hermione snapped, reaching over to grab his pencil, turning the sharp end towards her and jamming the bitten eraser end into his chest. "And making me walk _five kilometres_ to get here! In the snow"

"Well that's not my-"  
"Yes it is your fault. You're the one that forgot to pick me up. in favour of chess."  
Jim frowned. "Now hang on a moment, I didn't forget you-"

"So i'm-"

"I didn't know you were coming, so how could I have forgotten you?"

Hermione scoffed.

"Don't play that card. I know for a fact that my mom called you to tell you I was coming earlier!"

"Well. She didn't."

Hermione froze.

"Sorry?"

"Your mom never called me to tell me you were coming earlier" Jim repeated "You were only supposed to be coming next week."

Hermione frowned, starting to feel a twitch develop in her left eyelid.

"Yes she did. She called you….on...on" Hermione snapped her fingers, leaning against the wall as she racked her brain trying to remember when exactly her mother had called her uncle.

"On.. Well. I dont know. You should know. She called you"

"You're grasping at straws my dear" Jim pointed out as he pulled his cell from his pocket, opening his call log and turning the screen towards her. "The last call I received from anyone on your end was from your dad, three weeks ago to confirm that you'd be staying with me till the wedding. And don't even try the, 'they contacted you another way' I don't have a landline and I only use my email for work"

Hermione's stomach dropped, her eyes narrowing and her shoulders slumping as sense of resignation fell over her. She had to fight the urge to pout.

"She said she wouldn't"

Jim raised and eyebrow and Hermione felt herself wilt.

"Again. I can't believe she did this again." Hermione muttered as she threw herself into a chair and stared grumpily at the smiley face mug. Jim wisely kept his mouth shut. It was a rather sore point for Hermione, being the academic genius that she was, that her mother was- well not stupid, she was one of the best dentist's after all, but rather...absentminded. Scarily so at times. Hermione wouldn't describe her mother as a blonde, after all she did so hate the stereotypical outlook people had on nearly everything, but when it came down to it… her mother did have a distinct blondish streak. With everything. Now when she put her mind to it, Melanie Granger was quite the genius. She would have be, managing to graduate university with a score of 98.2 (even with missing the final exam because she'd forgotten about it) and beating Kenneth Granger, self-proclaimed genius. The problem was though, that she was more content floating through her daily patterns and routines. She had nearly kicked up hell when she'd found out her daughter was magic, but besides that and her mother and father's games of Go, Hermione had to admit that she'd never seen her mother ever give her full attention to anything.

"You really shouldn't be so surprised."

"I'm not actually. Mostly disappointed and slightly embarrassed" Hermione grouched and slumped further into the chair, giving her uncle an apologetic smile. Jim rolled his eyes and leaned forward in his chair, quickly ruffling his hand through her curls and making her squeal in protest.

"Stop pouting. It's unbecoming" Hermione scowled and Jim pointedly glanced at the clock, the wheels in his brain audibly turning as he seemed to consider something. A loud beeping from his phone seemed to make the decision for him, the chair spinning around underneath him as he pushed it away from the desk and sent it careening across the room to where a small coat rack was squashed in between the open door and the room. Hermione watched him in amusement.

"How about you say we blow this popsicle stand a little early?" Jim asked as he slipped his jacket on, the collar standing up crookedly on his neck and making him appear as if he had plumage around his neck. "Ugh. This jacket, will be the death of me I swear!" He grumbled, giving up with the collar and just turning to glare at his niece.

"Not. A. Word."  
"The thought never even crossed my mind" Hermione grinned, leaning down to grab her trunk, "But don't you have a few more hours at work?"

Jim scoffed and looped his arm around his nieces neck, pulling her towards the door as he slung his lap top bag over his head and let it settle against his shoulder.

"Nope" He emphasized the p as they walked into the hallway, "Boss won't mind a bit. He loves me too much to fire me"

'Besides, after today he'll never have to see me again' He silently finished in his mind, pulling his laughing niece down the hallway as he slid his hand into his pocket and ran his thumb across the phone screen. And grinned.

….O….O…O….

**(A/N)-** Hi and welcome to my new story :) I hope you enjoyed it even if it was more of a grounding chapter. If you liked it please leave a review. Constructive criticism welcomed and appreciated _if_ a valid reason is given, E.g.… Jim seemed a bit OOC in this chapter because he… (Fair warning though before you point this out, I tend to always write my characters in a way that will tie into plot points or such later. Most times, anyway. Occasionally a few things will slip through, which is why pointing it out would be great help!) A very big thanks to my beta **Gabrielle Avis, **for helping edit and listening to all my rants and plottings without killing me. Thanks and have a good day/night/infinite time of crawling through darkness after your prey, _Pip._

Question- If you could have any fictional character as your uncle/aunt, who would you choose?


	2. Peaceful Panic

**Disclaimer-** I no own. I wish i did. 'Nuff said.  
Un'betad

_**Chapter two**_

When Hermione had first proposed the idea of staying with her uncle, neither one of her parents had been amused. They'd both stared at her, her father over the newspaper and her mother over a wine glass. Both wore equally confused faces as they'd sat in their small kitchen in Australia.

'What do you want to do that for?' They'd both demanded, her father's eyebrows having disappeared into his hairline, and her mother looking utterly confused as to why her daughter had suddenly changed the subject from her mental health to her whack-a-doodle of a brother-in-law. At the time she'd told them she'd just wanted to see the rest of her family, make sure he was okay. In truth though, she'd just needed a break from her parents fretting. They meant well, she knew this and loved them a great deal for it, but one can only take so many subtle hints to attend psychological therapy; pamphlets at breakfast tables and talks about feelings before she got tired of it. And tire of it she had, rapidly, around three months ago.

Surprisingly, after his initial bout of confusion, it had been her father who'd protested the most about her going. Strange really, considering that her father and his brother had gotten on well for as long as Hermione could remember, her father often going out of his way to make sure they saw uncle Jim at least once a month. But protest he had, with much glaring, whispering, thinking (_not sulking He'd argued_) and long conversations with her mother. It had taken her mother and her two weeks to convince him to let her go, then another week just to get him to pick up the phone and call. The call itself had been short, quick and basically consisted of "Yes hello, we're alive", "Are you busy in July?", "Can Hermione come stay with you?" and the usual pleasantries that came with family politics. When he'd finished he'd come in, told her it was done then exited the room with all the grace of a man bound for the gallows. Her mother had followed, leaving her alone to stew in her guilt and consider calling off the whole thing. Her father had always been the one to try new things, the 'explorer', so having him react in such a way had left her uncertain as to whether or not leaving was a good idea. According to her mother, the memory wipe and restoration had hit him harder than her, the mere concept of something able to re-scramble his brain in such a way leaving him utterly terrified. Especially of losing his daughter again.

When her mother had heard her muttering to herself about changing the plans one night when she couldn't sleep, she'd walked slowly into her room, given her a narrowed eyed look and told her that if she started living her life based on guilt again she'd disown her. Then she'd poked her in the arm to get the point across before she'd sat down on her daughter's bed and promptly fell asleep. Admittedly, she still felt guilty about leaving. It was her fault after all that her father's mind had gone such a way, that he now held on tighter in terror that she'd leave and never come back again. But, her mother was right. She couldn't let guilt rule her life. Never again. And if she was honest with herself… this was nice.

The kitchen counter was surprisingly comfortable, the cold marble feeling warm compared to the wet snow and howling winds outside. Her toes curled and uncurled as she took a sip of her hot chocolate, enjoying the feeling of the warm liquid as it slid down her throat and set her belly alight. Dear Lord, how long had it been since she'd had any of her uncle's hot chocolate again? Two…Three years? It had definitely been a long time.

"Hermione, can you pass me the salt. On your left, top shelf" Jim asked from his place by the stove, sticking his left hand behind his back as he waited for her to hand him the small jar. Hermione complied, pulling the police man shaped salt pot from its place and putting it in her uncles hand, taking a large breath through her nose as she did. The whole apartment smelt wonderful, the scent of spaghetti Bolognese and freshly baked biscuits blending and creating a delicious scent that had her fighting the urge to start drooling.

"How much longer?" She asked, watching her uncle stir the sauce into the mince with the raptured gaze of a starving wolf, all large eyed and rumbling stomachs.

"No closer than it was five minutes ago" Jim retorted dryly, glancing at her out the corner of his eye, a smirk curling up the side of his lips as he watched her swing her socked feet against the kitchen counter. Hermione pouted, giving him her best beseeching look as she casually glanced over at the tray of cooling biscuits. Jim snorted and leaned over a small potted plant to pick up one of them, Hermione's eyes lighting up when he turned on his heel and plopped it in her hand with a mock glare. Hermione grinned happily as she bit into it.

"That's the last one. What would your mother think of me if she saw me feeding you all these sweets?" He chided, turning back to the bubbling pots with a groan as he started moving pans to the right, off the stove and onto the only available counter on his right- the other two taken up by Hermione and the tray of biscuits.

"She'd do just as she does every other time she's caught you feeding me sweets, glare then make me brush my teeth for the next two hours straight" Hermione replied happily as she hopped off the counter and grabbed two plates from the drying rack, laying them down next to the pans with a clink. Jim quickly scooped the spaghetti onto the plates, pouring the mince and sauce over it with a flick of the ladle, staring proudly at the assembled dish as Hermione rolled her eyes.

As soon as the plates where laid on the table Hermione dug in, eating the food so fast that half of it seemed to disappear in the blink of an eye. Jim stared across the table at her in raptured fascination and disgust, his fork half raised to his mouth and his eyes wide. Hermione grimaced when she saw his expression, mentally forcing herself to slow down so she wouldn't look too much like Ron. Again.

Jim's eyebrow was still raised as Hermione gave him a sheepish smile, wiping sauce off her jaw and clearing her throat awkwardly.

"Is it good?" Jim asked after a moment, causing her to break her stare from the table cloth to beam up at him.

"Yes! It's absolutely superb!" As was all homemade food after the war. After having lived off canned goods and soup and bread for the entirety of the war, anything home cooked tasted like gold plated heaven to any one of them. Ron especially. Harry hadn't been as affected by the food changes as her or Ron had been, but when asked about it he gladly admitted to a new hate for soup for as long as he lived. For Hermione, she'd just be happy if she never had to eat or see a can of beans ever again.

"Isn't that fancy school of yours feeding you properly?" Jim teased, taking a bite of his food and chewing slowly as he studied Hermione. Without the heavy coat from before and dressed in a red turtleneck and jeans she appeared a lot smaller than he remembered, her wrist a lot bonier looking as she reached for the pepper shaker. Hermione's eyes followed his to her wrist and she laughed lightly, picking up the little pot and exchanging hands as she sprinkled the pepper gently over what remained of the pasta. Underneath the table she carefully pulled the sleeve lower on her arm. Jim caught the movement, the slight tightening of red fabric by her shoulder that had him fighting back a frown as she answered his question.

"Oh no, no. The school's been feeding me just fine. More than fine actually. The problem though, is the remembering to eat, what with all those great books and everything" Hermione laughed, rotating her right wrist sarcastically as she grinned at her uncle. She should've known he'd pick up on the weight loss, he always had been too perceptive for his own good "It's nothing to really worry about, Harry and Ron made sure I wouldn't starve. The defence lessons didn't really help either".

Ok, so not really defence lessons more fighting for her life, but the basic gist was the same. And it wasn't a lie, all the extra spell-casting combined with the poor diet had rapidly deteriorated any weight she'd managed to gain on the run. She'd gotten better, no longer looking like the large eyed porcelain doll she'd been when she'd arrived on her parent's doorstep last year. But she knew her weight was still under what was considered normal for her age. Her uncles eyebrows furrowed, his lips parting in confusion as he stared at her. He closed then pursued his lips, seeming to decide against pushing the matter further.

"Defence lessons? I take it those are going well then?" He asked instead, twirling his last piece of spaghetti across his fork as he watched Hermione push a leftover meatball through the remaining sauce that had pooled in the dish. She looked almost pensive as she stared at the red liquid.

"Yes, quite well. Professor says I'm near the top of the class" Hermione lied, silently cringing at a little voice in her head that kindly informed her that the only reason for that was because of the breath in her lungs instead of the grave dirt that had covered so many of the Hogwarts students that day.

Jim smiled, "That's my girl. A genius just like her parents" He teased, making Hermione roll her eyes and smile back. The conversation carried on like this for the next half hour, Jim asking questions about school and her lying through her teeth or telling half-truths. It was all _"Yes Harry and Ron are fine, still absolute athlete brains" _instead of "_Well all three of us have crazy PTSD, Harry's still having trouble eating properly and Ron hasn't spoken to me in two months. Not to mention they're both currently going through extensive training to become Auror's and as such are even grouchier then usually, thanks for asking". _ Throughout all of it her uncle smiled and nodded, occasionally commenting with a story of his own, never once suspecting that he was being lied to. And why should he? She was Hermione, his genius niece who always told the truth and went to a specially gifted school in Scotland. She was nice, she was good. She was his darling niece who was innocent of all crimes in his eyes. Except of course, for her thievery in hot chocolate.

Jim walked over to the couch and stared at the empty mug, a thin rim of foam being the only indication the liquid had ever been. Hermione innocently sipped at her own mug, keeping her eyes glued to the T.V screen as if it held the answer to life. One of the main characters Dave was busy looking for his girlfriend and it was- Holy shit that was a scythe! Did Mia just swing a scythe at his head?! Why on earth was she-

"Hermione. On a scale of one to ten how stupid do you think I am?" Jim asked in a playful tone, wiping his hands with a tea-towel and plopping himself down on the chair with a weary sigh as Hermione raised her eyebrows at him from behind her mug.

"A solid eleven I think" She cheekily retorted, offering him the mug with a smug little smile. Jim shook his head, waving her off as he crossed his ankles on the table top and stared at the screen. And blinked in confusion as he watched Mia mock Dave, fangs having polluted her mouth and her eyes gone an inky black.

"See. This is why I prefer Glee, no crazy plot twists where the chick turns out to be a monster" He drawled, giving her a smug sideways glance. Hermione snorted, leaning her head against her uncle's arm and releasing a loud yawn.  
"The shows called Deception, honestly what did you expect?"

Jim nodded sagely. "Humans for one"

Hermione smiled, the colours on the screen beginning to swirl together. She blinked her eyes a few times, snuggling deeper into her jumper and feeling the warmth sink comfortably into her bones. Her blood felt like warm honey in her veins, her limbs starting to feel like limp strands of spaghetti. She yawned again, feeling her uncle rest his head against her own as they both continued staring at the screen. Her eyelids drooped slightly, She scrunched them shut then quickly blinked them, the screen focusing slightly. Oh, they were showing ads again? That was good, Socks were good…one could never have enough socks….

And somewhere between the ad for extra woolly socks and the opening sequence of the next show, Hermione fell asleep, her head cushioned against her uncles shoulder and her eyelids heavy from too much hot chocolate and snow.

….00000000000000….

Her eyes opened. She stared blearily out into darkness, her mind sluggishly moving over itself as she tried to figure out just what had woken her. When the couch back failed to present her with any answers she yawned, blinking her eyes drowsily a few times before she turned onto her back, her legs tangling in the soft fabric of the blanket draped them. The shadows on the ceiling stretched long and foreboding above her, fingers creeping across old plaster and moonlight fighting to follow after from the heavy blinds obscuring the lounge window. She frowned up at it, opening and closing her mouth a few times as she debated the pros and cons of getting a glass of water or going back to sleep. Her head felt so comfy…all floaty and light against the pillow. Dear God her mouth was dry…but the kitchen tap was all the way over there….

Her eyes were just beginning to droop again when she heard it. A light clink that sounded louder then it probably was. It seemed to echo in her head, like glass breaking. Her eyes slid open again, her eyebrows furrowing as she listened, ears straining. There it was again, a whining squeak. Pushing herself up Hermione frowned as she twisted her head to stare down into the hallway, her eyes adjusting in record time as she stared in annoyance at the curtains blowing gently in the mind.

Oh for Merlin's sake….what was this? Give Hermione heart attacks week? Grouchily she pulled herself up off the couch, wobbling slightly as she pulled the blanket up off the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders. She was making her way around the couch when she jabbed her toe and nearly tripped, grabbing her pinky toe with a hissed curse.

"You are supposed to be closer to the damn wall!" She silently seethed at the innocent looking crate, the lampshade hanging crookedly over the edge from her accidental stumble. She hobbled down the rest of the hallway, sighing as she stared out the window at the world below.

It was all black and purple, stars fighting weekly to throw there light through the thick clouds clogging up the night sky. A train rattled somewhere in the distance and Hermione sighed, reaching upwards to grab the window sill and tug it. It slid a few inches before it got stuck, an echoing squeak following after it. Hermione frowned at it, putting her hands flat against the top and pushing all her weight down on the top. It groaned but refused to move anymore, white paint flacking off onto her fingers. A door opening behind her had her grunting, swinging her head around to glare at her uncle's silhouette as he stood in the doorway. Briefly her eyes flicked over him, her frown tilting slightly as she wondered why he seemed to be sleeping in normal clothes but then the window moved slightly and she turned around with a triumphant grin.

"Would you help me with this already? Stop standing there staring!" Hermione chided over her shoulder. A few seconds past before her uncle's hands appeared next to her head, gloved fingers curling around the wood. Hermione stared at the gloves in confusion, her spine slowly stiffening and her mouth suddenly feeling like sandpaper as she froze. The hands pulled at the wood a few more times before it slowly slide shut, an identical squeak to the earlier sound echoing in her ears.

Slowly Hermione tilted her head slightly, her perceptual vision picking up a single flash of blonde that confirmed what she already knew. The person behind her was not Jim.

/00000000000000/

A.N- Still can't figure out the break thing. Ugh, why am I such a noob when it comes to technology? Anyway, ITS'S FINALLY DONE! OH GOD, do you have any idea how many times I re-wrote this? This is like the fifth or sixth version of the same chapter, and i'm still not entirely happy with it. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it.

Thanks everybody for the support and reviews, hope you enjoyed this chapter as well. Constructive criticism greatly appreciated.

Pip

Question- What's the worst nightmare you ever had? I once had this dream about clowns when I was six. Been terrified of the face painted buggers ever since.

(Update- The first file glitched so hopefully this comes out better,sorry if you get two update notifications)


	3. Interesting

Disclaimer- I no own.

Also Unbeta'd but super long! (i think)

**Chapter 3**

Now when one was normally presented with the ever terrifying modern issues of home burglaries or crazy polite strangers breaking into their homes, they often presented themselves with the 'Fight' or 'Flight' instinct. Which just went without saying, Hermione thought dryly, that she was definitely no longer part of the 'normal' category when her brain instantly presented her with the 'Kill in three different ways' instinct.

Carefully re-adjusting her hands in a feint of closing the window latch, Hermione studied the man behind her in the warped glass of the window, moving her left leg back and bending her knees slightly to strengthen her stance. She didn't necessarily have to attack him. She was probably just being paranoid, she tried to reason with herself, swallowing as she felt her adrenaline spike. Because really, other than the window being open -which he had so kindly closed for her- there was no real evidence (Like what? Her mind so helpfully retorted. Broken glass? A little black mask? A bag full of yours belongings? You're uncle's dead body?) that he had broken in. He might have been her uncle's boyfriend for all she knew, staying over for the night after having arrived too late to be introduced to the mysteriously appearing niece. But her uncle hadn't mentioned that anyone was coming over and the guy did seem to be an A+ lurker with the way he was standing behind her…

The bending of his arm around her throat really shouldn't have surprised her as much as it did. Hermione threw her head back on instinct, her foot following in a sweeping move to try and knock the man off his feet. The first move hit, the back of head connecting solidly with a crack against the underside of his jaw. The man stumbled back a few steps, his arm loosing from around her neck but other than that he didn't budge, her sweeping leg missing the edge of his shoes by a mere centimetre and sending her stumbling in a half turn, half fall against the now closed window.

Her elbow slammed into the window behind her but before the pain could register she was moving again. Throwing herself forward Hermione sloppily swung a punch at his head. The man ducked and twisted out the way of her arm, only realising too late that it was a feint when her knee came up and hit him squarely in the stomach. He grunted, curling around her knee and grabbing her ankle and suddenly they were both on the ground and rolling and she was on top and punching, fists connecting solidly with his face, blood bursting from his lip, but then with a twist of his hips he was back up, fingers diving for her throat as he tried to pin her legs underneath his. Hermione scratched at his face, her quick bitten nails not doing any damage so she spat in his eye, using the brief period of blindness to shove him off and wiggle away, getting more room between them before she got her legs under her and crouched, breathing heavily as she massaged at her aching throat.

Now that she could see his face it was with a quirk of her lips that Hermione realised the burglar was one stupid burglar if he'd thought it was a good idea to show his face. Or maybe it was an intimidation tactic, a way to show that he was the confident one here, the one in control. But that was only generally used in planned attacks, and there was no way in hell this guy was a Death Eater, not with the way he'd been all for rolling around and getting himself dirty instead of just blasting her off him with a spell. So… muggle. Nice. That limited her options quite a bit. No wand use. Damn it.

Rocking back onto the balls of her feet Hermione slowly shuffled backwards, her mind running over itself as she tried to figure out her next move. Without looking back she guessed there was about twenty steps until the end of the passage way, which would mean a wider area and the crate she'd knocked into before. She could definitely throw that at him. Hopefully break his pretty face. While he was distracted she could get around the couch and to her phone, another twenty, possible ten steps, and she'd be out the door and able to Apparate to safety. Then she could focus on tracking down her un….

His booted foot snapped to her head and Hermione threw herself back, hands coming up to block her head as she rolled left and right to dodge his stamping foot. A sick feeling was beginning to bubble in her stomach, her heart pounding in her ears as suddenly her earlier sarcasm flashed back to mind. You're uncle's dead body? Moving quickly she was up and past him, slipping cat-like between his side and the wall and darting towards her uncle's room. The room he'd come out of.

She turned at the last moment, grabbed the door and slammed it shut with as much force as she could. A crunch and a muffled yell from the other side. Hermione spun on her heel, expecting the worst. His figure slumped in bed, throat slashed. A mutilated corpse, blood splattered across walls. Him. Dead. Dead. Dead.

Her eyes hurriedly scanned the room. A desk, old and worn with books teetering in a tower. Bookshelf crammed to full capacity. Walls painted a pale grey, clean, no blood. Bed, neatly made. No sign that her uncle had gone to bed that night. She had a brief moment to feel relief before the pressure on the door behind her increased, her head tilting back to hit it with a thud. She'd boxed herself in. Great. Harry would be ever so proud.

The door was inching forward again and Hermione felt her temper flare. Screw this. Screw him and Screw the Wizengamot and all their damn rules. She was tired and her head was beginning to ache from being slammed into the ground and now her uncle was missing, and this was supposed to be a nice relaxing holiday. So as her mother elegantly put it, "Damn it and him to hell in a handbasket"

The feeling of her wand in her hand both brought her comfort and sent her emotions haywire. The smoothness of the wood in her hand and the familiarity of the shape calmed her mind instantly, narrowing her focus down to a pinprick as she assessed her situation. The roughness of unfamiliar nicks and half-moon dents bit into her fingers, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end as it always did when she felt them, when the memories of what they were probably from crowded and whispered along the edges of her mind. When it came down to it, It was really rather simple. A quick Confundus charm then Incarcerous followed by a memory alter and he'd be out for the count. That should be enough hopefully, because she was really not in the mood for getting a criminal record.

Carefully she took a breath, holding it to help centre herself like Charlie had taught her, grabbed the door and threw it open, her wand brandished in front of her. The click of a gun greeted her. Wordlessly the two of them eyed each other, the man's eyes igniting with amusement when they found her wand.

"How exactly is a stick going to help you, mate?" He scoffed in a thick Australian accent, keeping the barrel of the gun pointed squarely at her head, tilting his to study her more intently. Oh how she appreciated the irony in this situation. "When I have this here big bad gun?"

Hermione pressed her lips together tightly, narrowing her eyes as a small smile threaded its way slowly over her lips. In the split second it took him to notice her grin she attacked, hitting him with a silent Petrificus Totalus at the last minute instead of the Confundus. He stiffened instantly, his arms snapping to his side and the gun falling from his hands. Hermione stepped forward, carefully kicking the gun backwards as she rocked forward on her heels and smirked at him. His wide eyes stared back at her in shock. Wordlessly she cast a feather light charm over him before she tapped him lightly on the forehead with her fingers, watching him fall to the ground with a thud before she grabbed his leg and began tugging him back down the hallway.

Dumping him at the end of the gap between the kitchen and the sitting room she disappeared into her uncle's room, coming back a few minutes later with a chair. Slamming it down near his head she roughly picked him up and deposited him in the chair.

"Incarcerous" She muttered tiredly, slumping down wearily into the couch with a sigh as she watched the thick cords from her wand bind him tightly. _Round and Round the little brown chair the ropes bound the psycho_...

She hummed the tune to round the merry go bush under her breath as she stared pensively at the ceiling. To question and then obliviate or to obliviate and then question... Which one would be more useful for her? Which would be more effective on a random Australian burglar with a penchant to guns and attacking? Should she even bother questioning him? He was muggle wasn't he? Wouldn't calling the police be the best course of action here?

In any other circumstance the amused sounding no that floated in her mind would have worried her but as if was she was tired, her uncle was missing and she currently had a petrified man tied to a chair. Oh she could just hear Lavenders 'kinky' response.

She frowned

Was he a random stranger though? He was a bit more prepared than the common burglar now that she thought about it. Heck of a lot more violent too.

As these thoughts swirled around her head Hermione got up and began pacing. Left, right. Left, right. Oh what had she done? _What had she done? What was she going to do?_

Coming to a stop in front of the man she exhaled loudly through her nose and faced him, chewing on her bottom lip with her hands placed firmly on her hips.

"Is there even the slightest possibility that you'll answer anything I ask you honestly?" When he continued staring at her in wide eyed petrification Hermione slapped her forehead. "Yes right, spell. Sorry, I'm just feeling quite a bit disjointed at the moment. Jetlag and all that. The lovely little surprise attack doesn't really help much either y'know, and what's with this anyway? You're in Britain damn it mate, we have the reputation of gentleman. But then again we also have tossers as well so -" Oh god she was babbling. She was babbling again and if she didn't stop she was going to start shaking and if she started shaking she'd do something stupid and she really needed to stop. This. Now.

Wiping her sweaty hands on the side of her slacks Hermione focused her attention on the burglar, setting her jaw. "Anyway, none of that matters. Finite"

…

Ok, woah. Colour her impressed. She'd expected much more screaming and swearing but this cold eyed staring thing he was doing? Would totally have intimidated her in any other circumstance but she was Hermione Granger and she'd faced down Bellatrix Lestrange's bitch face and survived so this guy, this guy really had nothing on it. Was still quite impressive though.

At his continued silence her eyebrow rose in amusement, "Well? Haven't you got anything to say for yourself?"

His look hardened. His jaw tightened and his eyebrows drew downwards.

She considered him for a moment before she shrugged her shoulders and turned as if to go back down the hallway, calling over her shoulder "Well hey, if you don't want to talk to me I'm sure the police will be able to make you a lot more chatty"

She was halfway down the hall before his voice drifted to her, "There's no phone in the house you idiot, so unless you have a courier pigeon just lying around here somewhere good luck" This was followed by a loud thump and a string of colourful curses.

Hermione froze at the implications that he knew the house better than her set in, her spine stiffening and her eyes closing as she slowly rocked back towards the sitting room. So he was familiar with her uncle and the house then. That complicated things.

"Don't suppose you've done us both a favour and stayed tied to the chair have you?" She called humourlessly into the room before she stepped back in, both eyebrows raising in shocked amusement at the sight in front of her. The man lay sideways, his front facing the hallway she emerged out of and his eyes glaring angrily at her. And quite viciously and brutally he tried chomping at the ropes, his teeth crrr crrring over the rope as he tried, quite unsuccessfully to saw through the magical bonds tying him to a chair.

"Are you some kind of werewolf or something?" She asked, only half joking as she took a seat across from him and stared. He stared back and continued trying to bite through the ropes. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Did you or did you not just see me magically summon those things out of thin air, I think a little biting won't do much" She pointed out dryly, raising an eyebrow when he stopped chewing and stared at her.

"Just because I think I saw something doesn't mean I actually saw something. You's lot are good with your drug work either way, wouldn't trust the lot of yah at playing cards let alone not drugging me when catching me" He remarked bitterly. Hermione stared at him in confusion.

"What do you mean by 'you's lot? '?" She said slowly, leaning back with her arms crossed over her chest. The man grinned at her wickedly, and she was quite surprised to find a row of gold and silver glint merrily at her.

"Wouldn't you like to know love" He said dryly before he went back to chewing at the ropes. Hermione frowned at him in confusion.

"Fine let's come back to that. What exactly are you doing here in the middle of the night trying to kill me?"

He frowns and tuts at this, as if he's some wise world worn adult while she only a child even though he can't be more than a few years older than her.

"Wasn't trying to kill you" Said he.

"The attack and sudden strangulation says otherwise" Said she.

"I closed the window for you" pointed out He.

"Which was very nice of you" She demurred, narrowing her eyes before she added, "Before trying to strangle me."

"Well you weren't supposed to be here. Was trying to kill Jimmy boy" He said with some relish, smirking to himself as if appreciating some joke. He gave up on chewing the ropes and turned to scowl at her as if she was the one at fault in this situation. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. Suddenly she felt beyond tired, all droopy and sore and just sick of it. The war was bloody over. Had been for nearly a year now and here she was, interrogating some muggle as if he was a Death Eater when he was obviously some mental with a gun and a thing against her uncle. Which in itself was strange but the police could deal with it.

She was just pointing her wand at him, her mind running with where her uncle would be and an oblivious on the tip of her tongue when the sound of a key scraping in the lock came. Two heads, one curly and brown, another shaved and gold, snapped simultaneously to look at the door as it swung open.

Jim froze, the bottle of milk and brown paper bag in his hands crashing to the floor as he took in the scene before him.

"Toby, what the hell are you doing here? Why the-Why are you on my lounge floor?" He asked in confusion, blinking before he added with a frown, "Are you tied to the chair?"

Before Hermione could utter a word, a question of how the hell did they know each other or a 'what company are you keeping, the man, Toby, cut her off. He had a funny look on his face.

"Heya Mr J" He said, grinning up at her uncle, "Your looking good. Not as dead as I would have liked. Good thing you weren't here though, would have been a shame to get that suit bloodstained"

Jim frowned. Then glanced at a stone faced Hermione and a grinning Toby before he sighed, managing to sound both tired and frustrated. "What have we said about saying that to other people Toby? Threatening to kill people is actually a criminal offence even if it is a joke" Jim retorted, unwrapping his scarf from his neck before walking into the room and leaning against the couch to peer at Toby.

"He actually tried to kill me" Hermione pointed out, watching her uncle's reaction from the corner of her eye. What the hell was going on? Since when was 'threatening' to kill people a normal thing to do? Her uncle's eyes widened and his gaze jerked up to look at Toby, his gaze hard.

"Tried to?" Jim said, the amusement and warmth that had been in his voice previously, gone. "Toby, what does Hermione mean you tried to kill her?"

Toby winced and for a moment Hermione thought she saw a flash of something in his eyes- guilt?- but then it was gone and he was looking at Jim again, all cocky and metal. "I wasn't actually going to kill her. Just strangle her till she passed out. She wasn't supposed to be here after all" He pointed out and Jim grimaced, a look of fear- for what? What the hell was going through his mind? - flashed across his face before he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"I'm pretty sure I told you my niece was coming over Toby, besides just because she was in my apartment doesn't mean you needed to strangle her" Jim pointed out before he stepped around the couch and crouched in front of Hermione, tilting her chin up to look at him from where she'd been staring at the carpet with a furrow in her eyebrow.

"Hey, you ok? He didn't hurt you too much did he?"

"Would you like the checklist or just the small run down between strangulation, head bashing and a gun?" Hermione retorted sarcastically, crossing her arms and tugging her chin from her uncle's jaw as she glared at him. In the back of her mind she heard Toby weakly argue that the gun was once again, "_not_ loaded and she was being dramatic". She ignored him though, the major thought running through her mind being a combination of, OW, TIRED and I'M SO BLOODY CONFUSED. The last one sounded just a too bit like Ron for her liking.

Jim stared at her a while longer, wide eyed in shock at her sarcasm before his shoulders slumped and he sighed, reaching into his coat pocket with a muttered "_hang on"_. His phone was in his hand a moment later and gone the next, Hermione only managing to get a few muffled words and a loud protest of "COME ON!" from Toby, before he was walking over to Toby and untying him.

"Classy Mr J, real nice." Toby snapped before he threw himself on the couch next to Hermione, throwing his feet up onto her lap. When she glowered at them as if she might break them he cautiously removed them, sat for a moment longer then wisely got up and promptly ran to the other side of the room. Jim took his place, watching Toby from the corner of his eye.

"Erik should be here in a few moments. To take Tobi back to the hospital" Jim said, leaning back and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry about this Hermione love, I really am. I just ran down to the corner store to get some milk-"

"-At 2 in the morning?" Hermione said incredulously, her eyebrows raised into her hairline as her uncle grinned sheepishly at her.

"Insomnia" Was all he said as a way of answer, shrugging when she continued staring, "It was either that or modelling- the building trains and little buildings one, Missy" Hermione continued smirking as Jim rolled his eyes, "In all seriousness though are you- Damn it Toby! Get away from there!"

Tobi jumped as if burned and fell off the chair he'd been standing on to fiddle with the lightbulb, cursing as his back slammed into the ground.

Jim put his hands over his eyes and hissed in frustration, a muffled "Ehm two nwice fwer mwy own gwood" leaking through his fingers as Hermione stared in irritation at Toby.

"So am I going to get the rundown on who the hell he is and how you know him or are you going to continue sighing every minute or so like some terrible soap opera?" Hermione asked in amusement, her uncle sighing once again for dramatic affect before he looked up.

"While you know how Barts recently opened the psych ward?"

When Hermione shook her head Jim shrugged

"Yeah well they did, it was all in the newspaper around two months or so ago? Anyway doesn't matter. It was during my interview for IT, me being the genius I am, somehow managed to get lost and then next thing I know, Bam! I'm being knocked of my feet as this blur of white and skin goes bolting past and knocking me over and into a wall-"

Now why did that sound familiar? Hermione wondered

"-and winding me. After I managed to finally get my breath back I look up to find Toby looking down at me, all wrapped up in a cape blanket and stark, raving naked I'll have you know- Not a pretty sight either. And he looks at me and goes, 'Oi, Oi Mista, why'd you knock me over?' As if he was lying on the ground-"A knock on the door cut Jim off and with a glance at a now quietly sitting Toby, he got up and went to answer as he continued, "-And long story short I know have a lovely little friend who continuously breaks out of his room at the hospital-"

"Gets out on good behaviour!"

"- to visit me because he's convinced I tried to kill him that day and am his mortal enemy. He's harmless mostly and makes a brilliant tea partner as any. Wouldn't you agree Erik?" Jim asked, opening the door with a flourish to reveal a sour looking man with floppy brown hair and high cheek bones. Erik tilted his head in acknowledgment at Jim's comment before he turned to glare at Toby, nodding briefly at Hermione. The look of nervousness that had been on Toby's face lessened slightly, but only slightly and for a moment Hermione felt a flush of sympathy for him, but then he turned towards her and flipped her off as he got to his feet and she was adamant that he was and absolute twat.

"Well come on Torin-Byrne we don't have all night." Erik said dryly, and Hermione rose an eyebrow as Toby or Torin-Byrne (What was this guys? A pureblood?) winced and paled.

"It's Toby" He muttered, uncoiling from the carpet in all graceful skinny legs and pinchy eyebrows. Erik stayed silent, sighing as he wrapped his arm around Tobi's shoulders and muttered, "You didn't even bring your damn coat." Before he nodded again at Jim and the two began to move back down the hallway. Toby threw one last glance at Hermione and quickly she shot a silent oblivious at him while her uncle and Erik's back was turned to her, flipping him off when he blinked dreamily at her before scowling as the door was shut in his face

Jim turned back from the door to find Hermione cradling her head in her hands. Jim rushed to her side.

"Hermione? Hermione are you ok?!"

For a few minutes Hermione didn't argue, continuing to clutch at her head as a drum pounded behind her brow. Only now was she realising that the splitting head ache wasn't only just a combination of exhaustion and wrestling Toby. A small smile flickered on her face, a small giggle breaking past her lips before she bit them and took a deep breath. Not good. Not good.

Stumbling hastily to her to room after yelling a "Good Morning! I'm fine. Just tired" over her shoulder Hermione slammed the door shut, her back hitting and sliding down the door a few minutes later. Her hand shaking she hurriedly cast a silencing charm over the room before her hands began shaking too much, her wand clattering to the floor as Hermione began to laugh. And laugh and laugh. Until eventually that turn to screaming before peppering out to exhausted sobbing. Then silence.

…

Jim stood staring at the door to Hermione's room with raised eyebrows, his face blank and his hand in his pocket. Silence washed around him, where only a few moments ago he'd sworn he'd heard the beginning of screaming from Hermione's room. For a moment there he'd been considering going in there, carrying on with the concerned uncle act, but then he'd heard the loud noise and he really didn't feel like dealing with hormonal teenagers. He'd had enough of Molly for that today.

Rocking back on his heels Jim grinned to himself, a rather terrifying grin made only more terrifying by juts how charming it looked, the inviting curve of his lips and the sparkle in his eye that only when looked at closely would be seen to be hard and bitter. Sauntering with a slight spring in his step into the hallway Jim grinned, rolling his eyes good naturedly as he found Sebastian at the end, his knee buried into the middle of Torin's back and the boy's fingers clutched tightly between his fingers. Jim jumped up onto the stair railing, swinging his feet and watching as Torin gritted his teeth but did nothing else as his teacher clutched his- broken? My, My, Sebby sure was being kind today wasn't he.

"Torin, Torin, Torin" Jim tssked, leaning forward onto his knees like a cat surveying his prey. "I must say, I _**AM **_disappointed. I finally give you a chance to prove yourself and what do you do?" Jim shook his head sadly, "You get your ass tied to a chair by said little girl. Quite humiliating I imagine. I mean with all your so called 'expertise' in assassination, how hard could killing a little girl be?" He was enjoying watching the boy wince.

"You'd be surprised" Torin muttered dryly, his face being slammed into the ground, with a loud crack a few minutes after.

"Sorry" Sebastian said, his tone clearly indicating he wasn't, "My hand twitched"

Jim threw Sebastian a fond smile, his eyes snapping to the left at the sound of a door opening. An old woman with tightly coiled hair and her nightgown appeared a few minutes later, her mouth open to give the hooligans on the stairs a stern talking to before she spotted Jim. Jim smiled and waved cheerfully.

"Morning Mrs Mbili. Don't mind us. Just some business, I'm sure you can _understand_ that?"

The woman paled at his tone, stammering a quick. "O-f-F course Mr Moriarty" before hastily shutting and locking the door. Jim was pretty sure he heard her pushing her expensive china cabinet over the door as well. She surely didn't need any reminding about their business, after all, the last time she'd tried to get involved her sister had been blown up.

"Don't you just love old people? Their just so…squishy" Jim said cheerfully making a 'BOOM' gesture with his hands before hoping off the railing. His shoes made a loud, Tap, Tap, Tap, as he walked towards Torin and began circling him.

"Kill him" He said after a moment, his childish tone from before gone as he turned on his heel and began walking away. Torins voice stopped him mid-step.

"You can't do that! You set me up against some trained bitch with no warning! How's that a chance to prove myse-ahghh?!"

Jim turned around slowly to find Sebastian holding Torin in a sleeper hold, the boy's body dropping to the ground with a cough and wheeze when Jim waved his hand to stop.

"What do you mean some 'trained bitch'?" Jim asked with a sneer, "The basics of her training consist of maybe a few fancy fencing lessons and karate classes disguised as 'defence' lessons. Surely that's not enough to defeat Mr I'm-an-assassin-in-training, because if so Mr Byrne, your skills have been highly exaggerated. "

The boy wheezed a few more minutes before he croaked out, "Her fighting wasn't too -Not enough to take me down-"

Jim snorted, "Really? I could have sworn you were tied to a chair when I walked in? And how did she manage that if her fighting skills weren't good enough to 'take you down'?"

Torin seemed to hesitate for a moment before he whispered, "I don't know"

Jim's foot slammed out instantly, catching Torin in the chin and sending him skidding across the floor slightly. "Wrong answer" He singsonged, walking slowly up to a groaning Torin, his face falling into a cold serious mask as he roughly reached out to grab him by the hair and hang his face up to meet Jim's. "You boy, are quickly testing my patience so either you spill anything interesting you have to say or I'll have Sebastian here spill you all over the floor"

Torin's tongue weakly darted out to wet his lips, "I-I don't know how she tied me to the chair-"

Jim snorted, "Kill him"

"-Wait! Wait! But I think she drugged me somehow!"

Jim turned back with a furrowed eyebrow, "She drugged you?"

"I know it sounds crazy but it's the only explanation that makes logical sense! One moment I'm fine, ready to shoot her in the head-"

"Messy" Jim muttered, and Tobi winced as Sebastian hissed.

"And next thing I know everything goes fuzzy and next thing I know I'm tied to a chair, chewing at ropes and she's babbling about things so fast I can't hear anything. all I remember is her pointing some form of stick at me, it was kinda like a pea-shooter. I think she blew a dart of drugs or something at me. Like poisons darts or something"

"But you're not sure?" Jim asked. Torin shook his head.

Jim tilted his head back and considered the sealing, rolling his tongue around his mouth as he thought. Now this was interesting. A secret knowledge in posions and drugs? Just what had his darling niece been getting up too.

Turning back to Torin Jim pouted, "Well I guess I can't kill you for screwing up too much, you are Moran's favourite after all" The reliefs on Torin's face was brutally crushed as he continued, turning away and calling over his shoulder, "Sebastian? Show Toby boy what happens to those who fail us. And this time be a little more creative than just breaking his fingers"

Jim hummed under his breath as he walked to a spare apartment, stopping at his 'own' to pick up the bottle of milk before continuing on to turn the kettle on. Nothing like a spot of teas after a bit of torture. He was in the middle of reading 'The Complete collection of Grimms Fairytales' and half way through his tea when Sebastain came in, his face and hands a bright and shiny pink from where he'd obviously scrubbed the blood from them and his suit jacket discarded.

"I didn't break his fingers" He said in way of greeting, Jims mug half way to his lips froze and he stared at Sebastian, waiting for him to elaborate. "Your girl did. Snapped all four on his right hand clean in half. With a bit more pressure or force she may have cut them off completely"

Jim leant back and steepled his fingers under his chin as he processed this news.

"That'll be all Sebastian" He said, his second nodding his head and turning to leave, "Send my Regards to Moran would you? And also fix that boy of your up. I don't want to see him anytime soon, or more so then necessary at least"

Sebastian nodded again, forever a man of many words, before he departed from the room.

In the silence of the room, with nothing but his thoughts and the ticking of the clock to occupy his thoughts Jim grinned, all charm gone and wolf remaining.

Who would have thought that his little niece would turn out to be interesting after all?

...

**An**\- Sorry this took so long. I hit some major writers block (not really, just didn't know how to write a fight scene and how to go from point A to B) Also characterisation is hard. I know I'm writing Hermione a certain way for a reason but damn its still hard to keep her in character with that way. Anyway, hope you enjoy. Critiques and Reviews appreciated.

Pip.

Question- If you could live anywhere in the world where would you want to? I'd love to live in Ireland


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